


Tight-Knit Family

by Lemonyfreshness



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angery Marvin, F/M, Horny Shits, M/M, NO WHIZZER DEATH, Stressed Trina, WHIZZER WINS, WTF MENDEL, happiness for all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 18:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15691407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lemonyfreshness/pseuds/Lemonyfreshness
Summary: Marvin is a closeted man with a heterosexual marriage and a kid. He loves his wife and his son but at the same time he’s never be truly happy. His marriage was breaking and strained enough. His kid was going through life perils. One day in a drunken stupor he decides to make the greatest mistake of his life...or maybe it’s the greatest decision he’s ever made?





	Tight-Knit Family

OhMarvin was a rather patient man. He was a strong man. He was a resilient man. At least he liked to make himself out to believe so. No, Marvin can get rather fed up sometimes. Impatient. Annoyed. Vexed. Incredibly vexed.

 

He liked to get to work on time, see. The clock doesn’t punch in the numbers themselves, you know and on this one inexplicable day he just had to forget his morning joe. So he had to do what any normal run-of-the-mill working man would do and just buy a coffee. At a restaurant. Normally. God wouldn’t let him have this one win however.

 

You can’t buy a coffee normally if the guy ahead of you refuses to finish his order. No, most guys want a simple black or maybe something with a little sugar and cream. And maybe a donut or sandwich or a little bread. That’s it. Nothing else. No extras. There was no time for additions on the way to work. No one has the time.

 

Except one man feels as though he has the time to order whatever he wants no matter the implications this gives to his fellow men, his fellow compadres. He feels as though his time is far more important than others. And that man in question would happen to be the rather tall lanky man ahead of Marvin ordering the most obnoxiously long, complicated order to have ever been come across on a simple morning commute.

 

_People have places to be._

 

If he recalled correctly the man ahead of him wanted a coffee, two ham and cheese sandwiches, hash browns, a side of fries, and pigs in a blanket. Pigs in a blanket. He had the gall to order that much. He had the drive and the ability to eat a man’s last meal on death row at… He checks his watch. Seven thirty in the morning.

 

_What an appetite._

 

The man in front of him’s appearance practically screamed “snooty poser,” “snooty poser alert,” for he was dressed to impress and impress he did. Fine Egyptian cotton button down. Crisp form-fitting black dress pants. Sleek leather belt. Mahogany colored mules.

 

Ok maybe he had been staring too long.

 

No matter. He needed to get some actual work done. He has a steady schedule to maintain here and he is never late for the job. Key word: never.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

No response.

 

_Is this guy deaf?_

 

“Excuse me!” He repeated louder, seeing as the man’s scorning semantics have given no indication that he even existed.

 

The man turned around. “I’m sorry is it your turn?” The brunet sneered. His wispy perfectly shaped hair was combed impeccably at the top of his head, maintaining shape but still giving an air of regality. Its sheen practically eyed him as the man in question waited for a response.

 

He was right.

 

_He is one of those pricks._

 

“Some people have places to be.” He managed to grit out, no longer able to hide his irritation.

 

“However I don’t see it as being your turn at the moment. So if you could carry on and wait that would be well and proper.” With a swift turn of his head, the man was once again berating the waiter for his order.

 

“You think you have the right-“

 

“I do and I know it. Continue pouting. Your words will not will not speed time now will they?”

 

_I am not going to be late to work for this._

 

_What gives him the right? No, what gives him the idea that he could talk to him like that? Like he is a child. Like he is nothing. Like…_

 

_Ok breathe. Remember what Mendel said. He’s not worth it. He’s not worth it. Turn around._

 

The patter of feet could be heard as he stalked off right out the door in a huff.

 

“I just wanted a black coffee.” He mumbled to himself disheartenedly.

 

The office coffee machine was already broken and won’t be fixed until the end of the week. He was doomed to a shift of heated water and offerings of tea from Helen, the office assistant.

 

 _Ugh,_ he shuddered. _Tea_.

 

He couldn’t live on tea. He just couldn’t. Coffee was a man’s drink. A working man’s drink. It kept him going. It kept him awake. He just couldn’t work to his potential without it. He just couldn’t.

 

Sigh.

 

_This is going to be a long day._

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

As he thought, today was a long day. A long day of disasters, quick saves, and horrible boiling tea. First of all, their team’s quota was not even met for the month.

 

_What a load of crap that was._

 

He made sure to check the numbers. He even double checked.

 

_Stupid Clint._

 

Then he crashed at his desk because **someone** wouldn’t make leave so he could get his coffee. His coffee. He needed coffee. So of course Helen, God bless Helen, but sometimes she could be a curse, offered him tea and he had to accept. He had to. Unfortunately the women was a klutz and spilled boiling hot tea all over him. Boiling hot tea. He had second degree burns on his chest and his shirt was ruined.

 

_“Not as if your shirt was anything to brag about in the first place.”_

 

He could distinctly hear the guy at the restaurant in his head. He cursed under his breath.

 

Thankfully now he could simply go home with a wet shirt and explain the entirety of his predicament to his wife in anguish. She would lend him a comforting hand. He could rest knowing he was taken care of. They could doze off in bed sleeping soundly. No sex. No foreplay. Not even a kiss.

 

He sighed.

 

He really needed a break.

 

He made it up to his apartment complex and went up to his floor. 532 it read. He unlocked the door and went inside. Trina was only too happy to have him back. She smothered him in a rather suffocating hug, asking him about his day and complaining about the weather.

 

He planned to tell her. He planned to run off about his unsavory tale. He really did. But he was tired. He was wet. And he wanted nothing more than a clean shirt.

 

_It’s not even worth it now._

 

Her voice was shrill and voiced excitement for him being back. She was practically bouncing around the room due to the fact that he was there. In the moment of being in her very presence he forgot how uncomfortable he really was in his own home. She wanted nothing more than to romance with him. He wanted nothing more than to leave.

 

He brushed her off when she questioned about his clothes. He trudged to his room as she called him back.

 

“What’s wrong with you, Marv?” _She was going to lose it._

 

_Why yourself. Why anything?_

 

He was so tired.

 

He decided not to respond. He just got his shirt. His nice clean shirt. It was an ugly checkered plaid ensemble but hey a shirt was a shirt. And he liked this shirt despite what anybody would say of it.

 

Trina was still questioning him. Yelling. On the brink of tears. He fired back. He just couldn’t pretend anymore. They didn’t even realize the kid creeping onto the conversation in the background. Their boy Jason was always a sharp one.

 

That was it. He needed some air. He left with a vague retort of “I’m going out.” before he slammed the door shut.

 

He needed a drink. He desperately needed a drink. He walked to a bar. He couldn’t trust himself enough to drive to one when he was already in such a depressing state.

 

“Get me a scotch, will you?” He asked the bartender.

 

“You got it boss.”

 

God, he needed this.

 

He downed four before he found himself the need to leave. He needed to go out. He didn’t know the reason why but his mind told him that this excursion was far from over.

 

He walked off in a daze, not sure where he was going but knowing he was not getting home anytime soon. He stepped up into a club with the confidence of a man who knew how to get around but certainly stepping out of his normal routine. That was probably the alcohol.

 

He didn’t go to clubs. He didn’t dance and drink. He was sure to be of safety of home time and time again. He didn’t miss dinner. He never missed dinner. He didn’t yell at his wife. This was a whole day of firsts for him.

 

He found his way at the bar if that was any indication of discomfort. Someplace familiar even in the haze of lights and sound. He was drunk. But he ordered ordered another scotch anyways.

 

“Didn’t take it that this would be your type of place.”

 

Oh he’s heard that voice before.

 

“Are you still in my head or am I starting to hear voices now?”

 

The man from earlier sat on the barstool next to him.

 

“Don’t take it personally. My voice always seems to rivet in one man’s head or other.”

 

He couldn’t help but smirk.

 

“Is this what you call small talk?”

 

“More or less, but I bet you could figure out what the majority of my free time partakes in.”

 

“Oh? Trying on new outfits?”

 

He laughed. “You’re close.”

 

_This was getting interesting._

 

“Care to enlighten me?”

 

“Only if you are willing.”

 

_Where was he going with this?_

 

“What? You think I’ve never had a little fun before?”

 

The stranger edged closer.

 

“Once in a blue moon would be far from it.”

 

He was drunk. He reeked of alcohol. He was wounded. He was down.

 

_Why was he doing this?_

 

The perfectly drawn man reigned in his field of vision. He noticed that a third of his button down was unbuttoned, exposing an impasse of taut creamy skin. It was evident that he worked out.

 

_Oh. That’s why._

 

In his fervor he was starting to realize with a start that he was in a gay club. A gay man’s club. The one that he has watching downtown for five years now since its opening. The one that he has been too scared to go into since forever. He must have walked in subconsciously when he was under the influence of a fogged, less rational mind.

 

But it was too late to stop now. The man who was everything he wasn’t, the one who looked the part and lived it, lived his dream to the fullest, was staring him down now, inching closer. He drawled his every word.

 

“So I assuming we are going to cut to the credits scene or are we going through the fillers?”

 

“I...w-what?”

 

It was as if someone had splashed cold water onto him. He was in a haze of drunken stupor before. Now wasn’t just drunk. Now he was aware.

 

“Oh I thought you could be the smooth type. Too bad. But I can work with this.”

 

If possible he got even hotter.

 

“I really don’t think-“

 

“Just shut up will you?”

 

All it took was a kiss and Marvin forgot how to breathe. He forgot what to do. What to say. What to think. Because now it was all kiss and feel and “wow was this what it felt like to kiss a person and it just felt right?” He could never kiss his wife like this. He kissed his wife with a tender sweet touch. This was fire. This felt raw, unmatched, unexplainable. His wife was a petite sweet little thing. Soft. Comforting. All a man could want in a women...But this he felt this could be so much more.

 

When the kiss ended he felt he melt like putty in this man’s arms.

 

“I should have just shut you up the same way before at the coffee shop. Would have saved me the time from talking back at you.”

 

“You really know how to get under a man’s skin.”

 

“Is that a challenge?”

 

_Oh mother of God in holy matrimony._

 

“I’ll take the silence as a yes.”

 

And he followed, willing, as he was led out the bar and into the brisk cool air of the night. Down the streets of Manhattan, past boulevards and alleyways he knew so well and into uncharted territory. There he was led to a flat the was very posh and stylish like the man it was owned by. He only had a few seconds to look around before he was pounced by the man in question without any time to reconsider.

 

This was something he wanted. This was something that he needed. It was going to be a long night, his subconscious told him. A long, long night.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He awoke to a fresh sheet of linen draped around him, his naked glory out and alight in the carefully conditioned morning air.

 

But wait. It had been years since he’s had sex with his wife. It has been, well, forever. Where was he? His bed was quilted to kingdom come with Trina’s sewing activities. This bed had a smattering of soft down pillows and a blanket of cushioned white. There was a side of the bed that gave evidence that someone else was there earlier.

 

The man in question brought a tray to the bedside at his waking. “I got you eggs. Don’t take it the wrong way but I can be a gentleman when I want to be.”

 

“Wait what? Agh my head.” He rubbed his head in despair of his hangover.

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have had sex with the first drunk desperate I found.”

 

_They what?_

 

Oh it was all coming back to him now. The fight. The drinking. The club. The sex...

 

“What did I just do?”

 

“If you think you can insult my expertise in intercourse then you are more of a prude than I originally thought.”

 

“No, it wasn’t you. It definitely wasn’t you.”

 

This man could put him to his knees and he still didn’t know his name. He tried to change the topic.

 

“I never caught your name.”

 

“You never were supposed to.”

 

“So we had sex and I’m not supposed to know who you are.”

 

“Most don’t care.”

 

“I want to know.”

 

“I suppose I could tell you…”

 

“Yes, do that. Spare the theatrics.”

 

“But that wouldn’t be any fun.”

 

“You seem more of a pompous jerk than I took you out to be.”

 

The man seemed to consider a moment. It was as though he wanted to torture Marvin. He probably did.

 

“If it will save your pride, Whizzer. Whizzer Brown.”

 

“Whizzer?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“What are you? A comic character?”

 

“It’s memorable, you swine. At least I don’t appear to be a lumberjack. What is this muck you call clothing?” He lifts his shirt into the air, holding it in disgust.

 

He pried his shirt from Whizzer’s well-manicured hand. He hastily put it back on as he looked for his pants or at the very least his boxers. Where are his boxers? He looked frantically around. There they are: hanging on a lamp on the nightstand.

 

_How did it come to this?_

 

He pulls them off the lamp and quickly puts them back on.

 

“Not everyone is as well off as you.”

 

“Please, I saw the stacks in your wallet earlier.”

 

“You didn't…”

 

“Oh please. Like I would take anything. You need to trust me, Lover.”

 

_Lover? Was this a more than a one night stand?_

 

“Lover?”

 

“Force of habit. You may be last night’s stranger but I’m not a man of no charm.”

 

The altitude of this man would normally have Marvin biting off his tongue but in this case he was too pretty to let him know how much he hated him at the moment.

 

“Marvin. The name’s Marvin.”

 

“Wow. As boring as I’d imagine.”

 

He’s taking back what he originally thought. Forget manners, why be nice to a guy who insulted your very name.

 

“It’s not as if people are lining up to name their children Whizzer.” He spat back.

 

“I’m the one and only. That’s what makes it fun. You’ll remember my name now, won’t you Marvin?” Whizzer decided to spare arguing. He knew just how to stop a man from fighting after all.

 

Marvin was starting to regret giving names. The way Whizzer said his gave him tingles through his spine. Why couldn’t he have hooked up with a less good-looking of a man?

 

“Hah. Who could forget a poser like you.” His words were beginning to sound like cheap excuses for a brawl.

 

“I’m expecting your manners to be better given, Marvin.” Whizzer assumed he could keep up with him. A quick nip in the bud and the man of the hour will be happily waving goodbye.

 

“As if I need to give any pleasantries to you.”

 

Or maybe not. They could just fight instead. Or perhaps this could continue another time?

 

“Interesting. Interesting. Care to give a call sometime?”

 

“You want my number?”

 

“Isn’t it natural to call someone when they need a quick fix?”

 

He lives with his wife. He has a wife. Goodness gracious. He has a wife he just abandoned for a night out with a man he doesn’t know.

 

“That won’t be necessary.”

 

“Oh? You looked like the clingy type.”

 

“I’ll find you. How about that?” He tried to look flirtatious as possible, drawing out his lips into a pucker and closing in on Whizzer’s face. In his head he looked like a frog but it seemed to do the trick since Whizzer backed off.

 

“Alright, but eat your eggs before you run off to your real life. I can’t have a hungover man-child causing mayhem due to my inability to take care as a host.”

 

“You’re unbelievable.” Whizzer’s words were starting to sound quite charming and he cursed his inability to think properly in front of attractive men.

 

“I try.”

 

Marvin resolved to sit and eat the eggs he was so graciously given. Whizzer seemed to be the type that gets peeved when his efforts are wasted.

 

“I’ll start making pancakes too. The carbs help with the hangover.”

 

“Is that why you ordered a buffet so early in the morning?”

 

What? He would eat but that didn’t mean he still couldn’t be a pain.

 

“Guilty.”

 

“Some party life.”

 

“All part of the job.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“I gave you a name but you are not getting anything more.”

 

_Fair enough._

 

The room was filled with silence save for the sounds of cooking.

 

“Do you mind if I use your telephone? I need to make a call to my boss.”

 

“You sleep in my bed, you eat my food and now you want to use my telephone?” Marvin gave him a skeptical look. “Sure, I’m not stopping you.”

 

This guy was just sarcasm in a tightly fashioned polo.

 

He went to pick up the phone.

 

“Hello, Mr Thomas. Yes, this is Marvin. I’m calling in sick today if you don’t mind…Yes, yes, I know the numbers are not good...I will bring them up...I won’t forget...I haven’t taken a sick day in three years sir, I believe I can take one day off...Yes, thank you. I will see you tomorrow.”

 

He hung up with a click and a sigh.

 

“Some boss.”

 

“It’s not all bad.”

 

“Not all bad? Tell me what are the perks to that?”

 

“Well…” Huh, he couldn’t think of any.

 

“Exactly!”

 

“Maybe you are useful for something after all.”

 

“Say it again. I couldn’t hear you.” Whizzer looked a little pleased at that remark, cocky and full of teasing energy.

 

_When is this man not an arrogant cock-sucker?_

 

If he was drinking anything, surely he would have spilled it now.

 

Bad choice of words.

 

Not wanting to increase Whizzer’s already gigantic ego, he pretended nothing had just happened. Pancakes were piled high on the table so he took to the opportunity to take one just then.

 

“I know I heard you say something.” Whizzer prodded.

 

Marvin continued chewing.

 

“Come on.” Whizzer was whining now similar to that of an anxious child.

 

“These are very good pancakes. Where did you learn to make them I must ask.”

 

“You can’t change the subject on my watch.”

 

“Oh? I thought you were a man of pleasantries.”

 

“I may be one but I’m the host remember?”

 

“Well, I’ll tell you that you host just fine...when you shit your mouth.”

 

That did it. Pancakes were ready and nothing was in the way of him and giving this monger a piece of his mind. Whizzer picked up his spatula and was now brandishing his spatula like a sword.

 

“You take that back.”

 

Marvin failed to realize the danger in his answer. “Make me.” He stared the other man down, simply assuming that a quickie this early in the morning wouldn’t be so bad. He was very wrong to assume the next turn of events.

 

With a seemingly uncharacteristic “hiyaaah,” Whizzer charged with his spatula at hand, catching Marvin off guard as he was smacked with the rubber in the face. Shocked speechless, all Marvin could do was be quick to using his fork to block as Whizzer once again threw up his spatula for a hit.

 

It was as if he was a kid again, Marvin thought as he fought Whizzer with kitchen utensils, laughing hysterically at the stupidity of it all, of the simplicity of it all. He could forget all of his worries for now. There was a man yelling about karate in front of him claiming to be a ninja. Forget Trina. Forget his work. This man was by far the best distraction he has had in awhile.

  


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